


Wild

by habibti



Category: The Immortals - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Age Difference, Depression, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Jealousy, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habibti/pseuds/habibti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten random chapters/vignettes/drabbles about Daine and Numair around the theme of wildness. Jumps around in time.</p><p>Possibly AU as I have not read Protector of the Small or the Trickster series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Predator

**Author's Note:**

> So...this happened...
> 
> Inspired by Mark Reads currently reading The Immortals Quartet (seriously, go to his site, you won't regret it) I have been drawn back into my teen years and my incredible love for Tamora Pierce. Hence this random collection of drabbles/vignettes/smut/fluff about Daine and Numair (one of my first OTPs).
> 
> I managed to impressively channel my 15 year old self for this entire series so be ready for fluff of the highest degree!

“I wish you hadn’t killed him,” Numair whispered softly into her ear.

They were lying together in bed, Daine wrapped in the warmth of his arms, his chest pressed close against her back and their legs entangled messily beneath the sheets. A summer breeze blew through the open shutters, running cool fingers through Daine’s hair and lifting the last of the sweat from their skin. Moonlight turned their skin to pearl where it illuminated their bodies, framing their entwined hands on top of the bedcovers.

“Who, Ozorne?” she asked in surprise, turning her head to see his face. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling his stubble harsh against her lips, breathing in the smell of him.

“I would have killed him myself,” he whispered gently, his words like a caress, dark and seductive. “I would have killed him a hundred times, a thousand times for what he did to you in Carthak.”

Above her Numair’s face was hidden as he stared into the dark of the room, but the silky violence in his tone was clear enough. His hands tightened almost imperceptibly around hers, as he drew her closer into the shelter of his body, and then lay his head back on the pillow.

His steady breath disturbed the hairs on the back of her neck as he drifted to sleep.

Daine lay awake and shivered, despite the heat.


	2. Wild

The common folk call her the Wild Mage.

_They don’t know how right they are._

They were making slow love, each revelling in the feel of the other after so many weeks apart. He’d forgotten his weariness, his aches and pains the moment he saw her in the stable yard, alerted to his return by the many whispers of her People. They’d barely made it to his rooms before she’d stripped them both, drawing his lips down to hers with a sudden strength he hadn’t known she possessed, rendering him powerless against her.

She rode him now with wild abandon, her grey-blue eyes dark with feeling and her brown curly hair sticking to both their skins, damp with sweat. His back against the headboard, he watched her as she moved in his lap, one of her hands on his shoulder to steady herself. Her other hand was clasped tight with his, their fingers twining and intertwining as pleasure overwhelmed them both.

Numair watched her greedily, drinking in the sheer sight of her, locking his eyes with her own as she shuddered and moaned, and took her satisfaction from him. He leaned forward to kiss her deeply until she gasped, running his hand roughly down over her cheek, lightly grasping her neck as she threw her head back, tracing down over her delicate collarbone to hold one breast, her small nipple tight and hard in his palm.

When she came she screamed, testing his sound-proofing wards to their limits. He followed her half a breath later.

All around the castle a hundred birds suddenly took flight, driven to the skies in a fury of feathers and beaks, their wings almost blocking out the sun and casting quick flickering shadows over the people below.


	3. Hidden

Numair had taken to wearing high-necked shirts recently, Alanna had noticed. At first she’d thought he had a new lover, but for once the rumour mill at the Palace was quiet, and as far as she could tell he spent all his time with Daine and his other students, making the most of the new peace to give extra lessons.

She thought perhaps he was hiding an injury – some remnant of his fight with Inar Hadensra that he wished to keep private. She wondered whether she should mention it, perhaps ask if he needed any of her healing skills to speed his recovery.

When she mentioned it to her husband, George had only grinned that infuriating grin of his and pulled her close to him, draping his arm over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t embarrass him so, darlin’,” he drawled, hazel eyes mischievous.

Confused, she started to argue, only for him to cut her off.

“I know what I’m talkin’ about,” he reassured her, tapping two fingers on his temple and raising an eyebrow at her. “I can See what I’m talkin’ about.”

He pulled her even closer then, and she lost her train of thought.

Alanna had kept her own counsel after that, but privately she worried. Suddenly hyper-aware of the tall mage, she saw dark shadows under Numair’s eyes where he wasn’t getting enough sleep, and sometimes he seemed jumpy, nervous…even _secretive_.

Even the presence of Daine, who normally calmed him, only seemed to make him more on edge. Once, at dinner, he’d suddenly bolted upright in his chair, spilling his wine and choking half-to-death on the mouthful of bread he’d just taken.

“Are you alright, Numair?” she asked, getting up from the table to come around and thump him on the back.

“I’m fine!” he almost shouted, shocking Alanna back into her seat. “Fine, fine, I’m fine.”

Daine, who’d just ducked under the table to retrieve a lost fork, looked at Numair and held her water glass out to him, offering him a sip.

“No thank you, _magelet_ ,” he’d fairly hissed at her, his cheeks turning red.

Daine only shrugged and went back to her food, seemingly oblivious to the strange edge in his voice.

Alanna frowned and wondered if he’d had some fight with Daine – that could explain his skittishness, although there were no other signs of trouble between them that she could tell.

Later that night she summoned her famous courage and went to his rooms, determined to figure out the mystery once and for all. Outside his door, her hand poised to knock, she heard the unmistakable sounds of fighting, scuffling and what sounded like furniture being knocked over.

Reacting purely on instinct, the King’s Champion drew her sword and slammed the door open, storming into the room in a righteous flurry of metal and red hair.

“Numair!” she shouted, sword held high, instantly in a fighting stance.

But instead of a fight, Alanna found only Numair and Daine in a very… _unexpected_ position.

It took a moment for it to fully register – Daine, perched on a desk, her hair wild and unbound, clad only in a shift that was sliding down one shoulder. Between her legs stood Numair, his clothing in similar disarray, large hands clasped around his student’s waist. They both bolted around at the noise of Alanna’s entrance, mercifully stopping whatever it was they’d been doing.

A discarded chair lay on the floor, surrounded by a mess of papers that had clearly been on the desk only moments prior. And something that looked suspiciously like the dress Daine had been wearing that day.

They stared at Alanna in shock, their heavy breathing the only noise in the room. For long seconds she stood there, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

“Oh…” she bit her lip. “Just…doing the guard rounds. Sorry.”

Alanna sheathed her sword, and hightailed it out of there. Shutting the door rather more quietly than she had opened it, she leaned back against it in shock, struggling to process what she’d just seen.

Numair and Daine were lovers. How in the Goddess’ name had she missed that? Suddenly she had a much more disconcerting explanation for the strange events at dinner.

She shook her head and made her way to her rooms, resolving never to tell her smug husband what she’d just walked in on.

And what she’d seen on Numair’s neck – several large and very noticeable love bites.

No, she definitely wouldn’t be mentioning that to George.


	4. Alpha

Sometimes Daine thought that she what liked most about Numair was his size.

Of course, it could be uncomfortable. He topped her by almost a foot, and during those first hazy weeks of their courtship, when they’d had to sneak embraces wherever and whenever they could get them, she’d been a regular at the Palace healers for massages to treat the crick in her neck.

And it could be fair annoying. He liked to tease her by showing off his superior strength – picking her up and dumping her on the bed, tickling her until she was weak from laughter, taking both her hands in his large one and pinning her down while he teased her with _almost_ kisses, until she lost all her dignity begging him to kiss her.

Often they’d be in the middle of some argument or another, and just as she was _clearly_ winning, he’d lift her up without warning, cutting her off with the feel of his mouth on hers.

And yes, sometimes it was even a little bit dangerous. Once, after they’d made love he’d forgotten himself and rested his full weight on her, almost cutting off her breathing completely. He’d been gratifyingly sorry once he realised, apologising over and over until she’d had to shut him up with a hand over his mouth, threatening to cut off _his_ airway if he didn’t shush himself.

But mostly, Daine liked the size of her stork-man lover well enough. She liked to straddle him in his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling that she weighed lighter than nothing to him. She would run her hands over his broad shoulders, trailing her fingers whisper-soft down the muscles in his arms as he held himself still for her, his jaw clenched as she felt him harden beneath her. Numair would sigh as she kissed down his neck, her fingers raking through his dark hair just hard enough to make him feel it. She liked to feel the coiled strength in his body, all that raw power, held in check to allow her to do as she pleased.

Once, nervous, she’d propped a large looking glass against the wall next to their bed, wanting to see what they looked like together. He’d thankfully not said anything when he saw - just raising one eyebrow and prowling towards her like one of the wild cats in the Royal Zoo, with a look in his eyes that made her flush all the way to her toes.

That night Daine lit candles all around the chamber, so she could admire the effect of the flames’ flickering light on his copper skin. In the mirror Numair looked fair wild, the candles’ glow turning his eyes to Chaos pools that shifted and changed with the light, holding her gaze until she forgot how to close her eyes. Bathed in shadows and light, his dark hair loose around his shoulders, he looked like a predator, strong and dangerous. It was enough to raise goosepimples along her arms, and make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

But in the mirror she also looked like a different person, almost like one of the court ladies Numair used to bed, mature and mysterious and experienced. It made her more confident – confident enough to arrange him on the bed, move his hands exactly where she wanted them, both of them moaning at the feel of her breasts in his large hands as she rose above him. Daine felt brazen as she moved his arms above his head, leaning forward to use all her body weight to pin _his_ hands for once, stilling his hips so she controlled exactly how they moved.

She looked sideways at the mirror again, marvelling at the sight of them together. The stark contrast of her small frame against the long, powerful lines of his body made her catch her breath with desire. It was madness, that a little thing like her had the power to make him do whatever she wanted, could control his body as she willed, hold him here until she decided otherwise.

Looking into his eyes once more, their shared knowledge of her power over him carried them both over the edge.


	5. Devour

Daine may have come to him a maiden, but she hadn’t been as innocent as everyone believed her to be. A life half-lived with animals had opened her eyes to sex at an early age – her People were not the sort to be shy or delicate when it came to taking a mate. It would have been impossible for her to reach the age of sixteen without a good idea of what happened between a man and a woman.

And she’d had suitors before him, Numair thought with a small niggle of old jealousy. Idiots all of them, fools with puppy-dog eyes: inexperienced and infuriating, with their fumbling hands and clumsy kisses. Just before the barrier between realms fell he’d walked in on her with one of the stable hands, embracing in the sweet-smelling hay of a spare horse stall. He’d quietly retreated before they noticed him, not wanting her to see his feelings for her writ so clearly across his face. Cloud had snorted at him at he passed, though whether it was in sympathy or amusement he’d been unable to tell.

That night he’d shut himself in his chambers, brooding over his papers and formulae with a bottle of good wine, a nameday gift from the King. Later he’d guiltily brought himself off, alone, thinking of Daine’s full lips, her small breathy sighs floating through the stables. All he’d longed for was to be able to touch her, to make her cry out for him, to give her the pleasure he was sure she couldn’t possibly be getting from those _boys_ …

“Numair?”

Never had he thought he’d actually get his wish, that she’d desire him as desperately as he wanted her.

“What are you thinking about?” Daine asked, forcing him back to the blessed present moment.

They were together in his chambers, having snuck up here after dinner with some flimsy excuse or another. Numair was fairly sure that their friends knew they were lovers, but luckily they were too distracted by the post-war reconstruction efforts to confront them directly. Although he’d caught the Lioness looking at him strangely a few times…

These were his favourite times now – these languid evenings after they first made frantic love, after the growing sexual frustration of the day had been burned off and they could take the time to properly explore each other. Numair had never been this comfortable with a lover, never experienced this easy flip from friendship to love to desire and back again.

Both completely naked, he was laid between her legs, his elbows resting on the mattress outside her thighs, his head on her stomach as he considered what he had planned for her tonight.

Daine had propped herself up on her arms to look at him with a strange look on her face, her unique blend of affection and irritation that had become so familiar to him. She reached her hand down to him, running her fingers through his hair, fingers grazing over his scalp in a way that made his skin sing.

“Nothing important, sweetling,” he reassured her, placing gentle kisses on her flat stomach until she lay back down on the pillow with a huff of frustration.

Numair had her exactly where he wanted her – naked, stretched out below him, relaxed enough from their earlier lovemaking that she was like tallow in his hands. Shifting his position slightly, transferring his weight to one elbow, he traced a careful fingertip over and around one of her nipples until she caught her breath, loving the way she responded to his touch, adoring her so much he almost couldn’t bear it.

He was sure she’d never had this done to her before, perhaps had no inkling of the act, and the thought of surprising her in this way sent heat flooding through him, desire so strong he was hard in moments. Numair resisted the urge to rub himself against the sheets like some green boy with a woman for the first time.

He brought his hand down over her stomach, gently caressing her silken skin, then suddenly ducking forward and playfully dipping his tongue into her navel, forcing a giggle from her. Daine half-heartedly kicked at him and bucked her hips, quieting only once he pulled her legs apart again, moving down the bed until he was between her thighs. He slowly parted her lips with his long fingers, holding her open and lowering his mouth until he was half a hair’s width away from the delicate skin of her pussy. He blew gently and she shivered and moaned, all laughter forgotten.

Looking up at her, Numair saw that she’d closed her eyes and was holding herself still, so still that she seemed set in stone. He paused until Daine opened her eyes, smiling smugly at her heavy lidded gaze, her pupils dark with desire. The tension between them stretched tight, as he waited impossible long moments and she held herself motionless, breathless.

Finally, still holding her gaze, he lowered his mouth to her, running his tongue in one smooth motion from bottom to top, finishing by circling her nub with the end of his stiff tongue. She exhaled deeply and her head tipped back onto the pillows, as she fisted her hands in the bedcovers. He moved his hands under Daine’s buttocks and drew her up towards him, her ankles instinctively coming to rest on his back as he pressed his tongue further into her, licking into her and around her until her whole body shuddered and she uttered a broken cry.

Numair had always liked doing this, and he was good at it. He’d always enjoyed reducing his lovers to a quivering mess, and it had bolstered his ego how easily he could undo a woman with nothing but his tongue. But with Daine it was somehow different, more intimate and intense than he’d experienced before. She was so responsive to him, so open, giving herself up to the sensations with a complete lack of inhibition. And she tasted and felt…indescribable, even for a mage of too many words. He hoped absurdly that she wouldn’t last long, as his body screamed for his own release.

Luckily she came apart quickly, her entire body tensing and then dissolving after only a couple of minutes, bucking up into him so hard that he almost had to hold on to her as she peaked. Daine moaned deeply when she came, a guttural cry that almost had him spending on the sheets, in the end almost no better than one of her teenage suitors, despite his determination to control himself.

Afterwards she flung her arm across her eyes and laughed, grinning widely.

He crawled up the bed to drop next to her, breathing as heavily as she, although he still throbbed, painfully hard and needing.

She turned to him and smiled even wider, a glint in her eye once she noticed his arousal.

“So, is it my turn now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quite often I associate certain songs with my writing. For this chapter I tried to channel a little bit of Massive Attack 'Inertia Creeps' as it is quite simply one of the sexiest songs I've ever heard.
> 
>  
> 
> _Recollect me darling / Raise me to your lips_  
>  _Two undernourished egos / Four rotating hips_
> 
>  
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sE7xyn28wjg


	6. Broken Wing

“Mithros take it, what on earth were you thinking?”

Daine looked up at Numair from where she sat on the infirmary bed, a stubborn set to her jaw. She had a very impressive bruise on her temple, a variety of large scratches and abrasions over her face and neck (not to mention the bits of her covered by clothes), and her right arm was bound up in a sling. The camp healer had done her best, but was more concerned with other possible injuries rather than the arm, in the end merely using her Gift to set the bones back in place and take away the worst of the pain.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Ah yes, fine! You’re absolutely fine, are you? Of course, your arm is broken in two places, and there’s a _slight_ possibility you may have a concussion, but aside from that you feel fine?” Numair sounded angry, but underneath his bluster was an ugly note of fear, and it was obvious that all this commotion was just his reaction to the idea of losing her.

Daine knew from experience it was best to let these things play themselves out, so she simply sat and waited, watching the mage pace around the room, working himself into a fearful panic. If he kept this up soon he’d work a circle-shaped hole in the ground.

“Odds bobs,” she whispered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Unfortunately for her, Numair heard her and he paused in his fretting and pacing long enough to shoot her a sulky glare.

“This is serious Daine! You lost control of your form mid-flight, and it almost killed you. If you’d been any higher it would have! What happened?”

She made no comment, but patted the mattress beside her. Defeated, Numair crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to her, resting his head in his hands.

“If anything happened to you…Daine…”

She ran her good arm over his shoulders, making soothing noises as she’d make to any wounded animal, waiting for him to regain some of his calm.

“Sweetheart, I’ll mend,” she reassured him.

“What happened?” he pressed her, turning his head to look at her. She smiled at his single-mindedness. If nothing else, she could always depend on Numair to follow a line of thought through to the end, however irritating it was.

“I got distracted. I suddenly realised something, and I got distracted, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s all? You got distracted?” Numair was starting to work himself up again. “What could you have possibly realised that was so important that you _fell out of the sky_?”

“You have to calm down,” Daine hushed him. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself. Her news wasn’t going to make him any less protective. In fact, she had a small inkling it might make him even more protective, although right now that seemed impossible.

“I’m fine,” she insisted again. She reached for one of his large hands and brought it to her mouth, kissing it as a knight would kiss his lady’s hand, then bringing the hand down to rest on her stomach.

Numair looked at her, befuddled. She smiled.

“ _We’re_ fine.”


	7. Wounded

There were some things that a lover was privy to that a friend was not. Daine had always known that Numair could be moody, often shutting himself in his chambers for hours on end, fixated on his experiments and ignoring all else. After almost a year of being Numair’s lover, she’d realised that what she’d thought was sulkiness was actually a deeper hurt, a sadness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him completely.

Sometimes she woke alone in the dark night, seeing a light under his study door as he worked instead of sleeping. The first couple of times this happened, she’d gotten up and gone to him, tried to distract him with kisses and bring him back to bed. She’d soon realised that this was useless. When he was in one of his states, there was no distracting him. The best thing to do was to let him go away and come back in his own time, to be there when he came back. Like taming a wild animal, there were no easy shortcuts.

It was difficult, as difficult as anything Daine had ever had to do. As she’d fallen deeper in love with Numair, she’d become affected by his moods in a way she couldn’t have predicted. Nothing gladdened her as much as his wide grin, his teasing hands and silly japes that had once so irritated her. But the other side of the coin was that when he got caught up thinking about the past, worried by old wounds that refused to heal, she hurt to think of him being in pain.

Not since her family in Snowdale had she felt so exposed and so vulnerable. It took some adjusting to - loving this much was _hard_. She felt like she was walking around with a target painted over her heart, a fatal wound only ever moments away. Twice she’d lost herself in grief, once with the wolves and once with the bones of Carthak. She didn’t think she’d survive a third time.


	8. Possessive

Daine eyed Susanah with a frown on her face. The girl was 20, two years older than Daine, and she was fair beautiful. She had large blue eyes, so pale they were almost clear, a mere smudge of a cute button nose, and wavy strawberry blonde hair down to her infuriatingly slender waist. Her pale green tunic fitted her _just so_ , clinging to her body in a way that sometimes distracted the other male students, although Susanah ignored them.

Worse, Susanah’s wild magic was strongest with domestic animals. Odd’s bobs, she spoke with _chickens_ for Goddess’ sake.

Even worse, she was edging closer and closer to Numair as he demonstrated the magnifying effects of water on magic range, even going so far as to place her hand over his in the bowl of water, nodding intently and focusing just a little too hard on what he was saying.

Daine’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh,” Susanah cried, as a pigeon flew overhead and a splat of bird mess landed in her hair.

“Excuse me,” she said to Numair, and almost fled the lesson in her hurry to get to a washbasin.

Daine smiled. What kind of wild mage couldn’t handle a little animal mess? She’d be no good in battle, not that one.

Numair’s loud voice filled the clearing.

“I believe that pigeon had a point – I’ve kept you all far too long, I’m afraid, and it’s almost time for dinner. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning, and you can all have a chance to try the effects of water on your magics.”

The students began to trail away back to their barracks, a couple of them still giggling over what had happened to Susanah. Daine waited until they’d gone, and made her way over to Numair, who was carefully packing away his books.

She grabbed the basin of water and tipped it into the bushes, resting it upside down against some rocks for use tomorrow morning. Maybe Susanah would be a bit more sensible tomorrow, and cover her hair. It would be a shame for the same thing to happen twice…

“Magelet?”

Numair’s voice was amused, and when Daine turned round to face him she noted the smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He leaned back against a tree and held his arms out, beckoning her over to him.

She went into his arms gladly, rising on her toes to kiss him firmly, wrapping her hands in his shirt collar as his arms went around her waist, holding her loosely against him.

He lowered his head and rubbed his nose against hers, eyes flickering with laughter.

“You’re a cruel beast Daine. Poor Susanah,” he mock-scolded her.

Daine hrrmphed, sounding for a moment so much like an angry Cloud that Numair threw his head back and laughed.

“And they say I’m the jealous one.”


	9. Pack

For the second time in her life, Daine was part of a pack.

Except this pack wasn’t made up of wolves. She didn’t pad through the mountains on soft quiet paws, or howl her anger at the clear cold moon. Her nights weren’t full of the hunt, jaw and claws tearing in a blood frenzy that made her heart sing with righteous joy.

No, this pack was made up of one very large, very asleep husband, one snoring blonde-haired daughter that had somehow crept into the bed between them _again_ , and a rambunctious toddler son that had just poked his head around the door of the bedchamber, intent on mischief.

“Come here, wildling,” she whispered to him, holding out her hand. He fairly ran over, jumping into the bed with such force that he near enough bounced Kitten off the bottom of the bed. The young dragon chirruped angrily at him, and curled up again so tightly that only the tips of her ears were visible over her tail, her body glowing a faint pink with annoyance.

“Careful, careful,” Daine gently warned as Rikash got under the covers, snuggling up to her chest. She wrapped her arms tight around him, her little boy, with big brown eyes just as serious as his father’s, and breathed in the sweet scent of his hair.

A small movement beside her caused her to lift her eyes, where she saw that Numair was not quite as asleep as she’d believed. He smiled a lazy, sleepy smile and raised his hand to ruffle Rikash’s hair, and Daine felt her heart fill with such contentment that she was suddenly terrified to breathe, afraid that something bad and unknown was going to take all this away from her.

Numair must have noticed a change in her expression, because he moved his hand up to cup the side of her face, looking into her eyes.

“Are you well, sweetling?” he softly asked, but before she could reply another voice broke the mood of the moment.

“I thought I was your sweetling!” Sarralyn complained from between them, indignant and pouting.

Numair raised his eyebrows, and turned his attention to the little girl nestled between them.

“And what are you doing here, young lady?” he asked playfully, getting up on his knees and tickling his daughter until she squealed. “I thought you were going to sleep in your own bed for once?”

Quick as a flash, Rikash leapt out of Daine’s arms and jumped on his sister, helping his father with the tickling and adding his shouts to his sister’s cries for mercy.

Daine rolled her eyes at all of them.

“I’ve had more civilised mornings with wolves!” she admonished them all.

A disgruntled squawk indicated that Kitten clearly agreed with her.


	10. Flight

Geffin frowned, shielding his eyes with his hand as he looked up into the sky.

“What is it?” his daughter Ella asked, pausing in her weeding to come up and stand beside him, wiping her hands on her apron. She was a maid of twelve with curly red hair pinned up messily at the nape of her neck, still young enough to daydream of fair ladies and knights on white steeds.

“See those birds?” he replied, pointing to a couple of birds circling overhead. They were too far away to see what kind of birds they were, although one could possibly be a hawk, an uncommonly large one.

Ella watched the birds for a moment, enjoying the spring sunlight on her upturned face. It had been a hard winter, following so close behind the war that had almost turned Tortall upside down, what with the winged horses and metal birds and all manner of strange creatures straight from the stories of her childhood. Today was the first warm day of the new year, and Ella felt the land beginning to thaw, the plants and animals coming alive all around the farm.

Her father grunted and spat, shaking his head.

“Them’s not real birds,” he pronounced. “Come away, its not right to look on the gods when they come down. Nothing worse than getting on the wrong side of a god.”

He turned to go back to the farmhouse, his terrier Frisky trotting at his heels.

Ella ignored her father for a moment, gazing up at the birds. She’d been wrong before; they weren’t circling prey. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said they were _playing_. They chased each other, soaring on the wind and then suddenly dropping like stones, each close enough to catch the other if they’d truly meant it. While she watched they rose again, spiralling through the air like the dances at Beltane, when men and women hunted each other like the sweetest kind of prey.

She didn’t know if the birds were gods, but something about their courting dance made her heart grow in her chest. Perhaps this summer she’d find a boy of her own to dance with around the midsummer fires.

“Ella!” her father shouted, breaking her concentration. “Come away child.”

She shook her head, and ran after her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another song inspiration/recommendation! Try listening to The Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt for a hint of the atmosphere I was going for...
> 
>  
> 
> _I left my heart to the wild hunt a-comin' / I live until the call_
> 
>  
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQVK6ROrbTo


End file.
